


infatuated (a euphoric sense of pleasure)

by cryptidknees (blueraeanddvd)



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Body Worship, Choking, Choking Kink, Consensual Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, no beta we die like men, theyre in love because i want them to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueraeanddvd/pseuds/cryptidknees
Summary: Quentin and Peter are absoltely infatuated with each other.orQuentin and Peter fuck lovingly





	infatuated (a euphoric sense of pleasure)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos appreciated. this is completely self indugent becuse i love them both so much

Quentin stared lovingly at the boy underneath him, watching his lips quiver with each breath outward. He ran his hand up his side, earning a small gasp. His skin was so smooth, not a mark on him; Quentin assumed he had the super healing to thank for that.

The hand continued up, grazing a nipple as it past, finally reaching Peter's neck. He wrapped his hand around it, noticing how perfectly his palm fit against his throat, knowing that Peter was made for this, for him. 

Peter sucked in a breath and the hand closed around him. Quentin watched his boy for any sign of discomfort, of displeasure, but it never came. Light fingers traced against the arm that held him, and a look of nothing but pleasure was in his eyes. With his strength, he could easily take Quentin, and yet he chose to let him have control, let him have power over him.

Peter was so good for him, Quentin thought. He was infatuated with the boy, obsessed, even. This boy who did nothing but obey his commands and beg for more, more. He was so eager to please the older man, and Quentin was happy to indulge him (and himself).

A wheeze brought Quentin back into reality, and he released his grip.

"Please, Quentin," Peter whined, reaching up his hands and tracing delicate fingers against his lover's jaw, "I need you."

"Tell me what you need, baby. Anything you want." He replied fondly, catching one of the hands and giving it a kiss. 

"Please fuck me, I need it." His boy, his good,  _ good  _ boy begged though those pretty pink lips. How could he ever refuse Peter, in all his perfection and glory? 

“Of course, honey, all you had to do was ask.” Quentin smiled at him, leaning back and out from between the boy’s legs. He stared at this masterpiece of a youth, taking in the pure beauty that was being offered up in front of him.

His eyes locked with Peter’s, giving him a gentle smile which was returned almost instantly. His gaze trailed down, down his chest to his dripping cock, sitting at the ready and twitching against his exposed skin, leaving little drops of precum glistening on his skin. Quentin leaned forward to give it a small lick before making his way off the bed and towards a dresser.

He heard Peter whine at the loss of his companion, causing him to chuckle. “Just a moment, sweetheart.” He called over his shoulder as he rummaged through a drawer, returning to the bed with a tube of lube and a condom.

Quentin found his way between Peter’s legs once again, running a slick finger against his entrance. Peter gasped, his eyelashes fluttering beautifully. 

Peter was a masterpiece, perfection in its purest form. He was everything good in the world; every sunny day, every breath of fresh air, every pink sky. He was absolutely stunning and he was absolutely Quentin’s.

“Baby boy, look at you; so perfect for me.” Quentin breathed out, running his free hand against Peter’s thigh. His lover spread his legs wider, an invitation for more. A second slicked-up finger slid in next to the other, scissoring inside him. Peter moaned, all breathy and virginal, and Quentin couldn't help but lean up and capture him in a kiss.

Peter moaned into the older man’s mouth as he thrust his fingers in and out of him. It was a sensation he’d never experienced before, a sort of euphoric sense of pleasure as a third finger was added and the digits grazed his prostate.

“Fuck-fuck, ple-ease Quentin, I need you inside me,” Peter begged, begrudgingly pulling himself away from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Quentin asked, punctuating the question with a spread of his fingers.

“Yes, yes, I promise, please just fuck me.” Quentin’s perfect boy pleaded, hands against his cheeks, thumbs rubbing light circles against them. Oh, how perfectly fucked the man was; he would never be able to deny Peter anything.

“Shh, shh,” He hushed him, “of course, baby, just wait a minute longer,” Quentin ran a reassuring hand against Peter’s inner thigh before sliding on a condom and slicking it with a generous amount of lube. He knew Peter could take it, but he wanted it to be as painless as possible. 

Quentin lined himself up against Peter’s entrance, rubbing the tp against it experimentally. Peter let out a high pitched moan, pushing back against it.

“Please, Quentin, please pleaseple-” he begged, but was cut off by his own loud moan when Quentin finally pushed inside him. It was agonizingly slow, Quentin making sure to take his precious time, letting the boy adjust to the length. He stopped when he was fully inside him, flush against Peter’s ass.

He stared at his wreck of a boy. Peter’s hair was a mess, his own fingers entangled tightly in his locks. His cheeks were flushed red, eyes closed tightly and his breath more of a pant. 

To Quentin, this was more than sex, more than love. Fucking Peter Parker was a religious experience.

“Oh, Peter. My perfect boy, so good for me, so tight,” praises fell from his lips like a prayer to God, his fingers tracing his thighs in worship. Peter was more than Quentin would ever be, and yet he lay here under the man, letting him take control, trusting him.

Quentin took one of Peter’s hands in his, leading it down to his abdomen.

“Do you feel that?” He asked Peter, who pushed his hand against his skin, feeling a bulge, and nodded. “You’re so delicate, Peter; you barely fit around me but you take it so good.”

“I need more, Quentin, please,” Peter reached his hand up to lace his fingers into the older man’s hair, running them gently through the locks. Quentin smiled fondly at him, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead before pulling out an inch and fucking back into him. Peter let out a loud moan, tears welling in the corners of his eyes from the intense pleasure. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” Quentin told him. He grabbed Peter’s thighs for more control, putting his legs over his shoulders as he fucked him hard. He had intended to take it slow, cherish the sensation of being inside of Peter and watching as he begged to cum over and over, but once he was there he couldn’t stop himself.

Peter’s fists balled into the sheets as he moaned, trying desperately to push back on the man’s cock, get any more of the feeling of heat in his gut.

“I’m gonna flip you baby, okay? It’ll feel really good, I promise.” Quentin assured him, and Peter nodded meekly. He wasn’t confident enough in his voice to really respond.

Quentin grabbed Peter’s hips and flipped him over onto his stomach. A tight arm around his waist lifted his ass up, and Quentin soon resumed his harsh pace. Peter’s back bent gracefully under the older man’s touch, a flexibility which he had the boy’s past in ballet to thank for. One hand reached up and grasped Peter’s hair, pulling his back flush against Quentin’s chest. The new angle allowed him to push deeper in the boy, every thrust hitting that spot inside him that made Peter cry out.

“You feel so good, Peter. I love hearing you moan on my cock,” Quentin praised him, reaching his free hand forward to wrap around Peter’s member, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

“Quentin, I-I’m gonna,” Peter breathed out between his moans. Quentin kissed his neck and whispered in his ear.

“Cum for me, baby. You’ve been so good, you can cum.” Quentin quickened his strokes and then Peter was cumming, his back arching as he cried beautifully. The feeling of his boy clenching around him was enough to bring him over the edge and he was cumming soon after. 

They both collapsed on the bed, tired and out of breath. They laid there for a moment before Quentin pulled out, quickly tying off the condom and throwing it haphazardly somewhere in the room. With an arm around Peter’s waist, the pair fell into a comfortable slumber.


End file.
